


A Journey Through Light and Dark

by LordSenorslowmo



Series: Tales of Light and Dark [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSenorslowmo/pseuds/LordSenorslowmo
Summary: The title of Warrior of Light is a heavy one, one not so easily worn but a single individual. But there were more than one Warrior of Light. A group put together between familial relations and friendship. The Warriors of Light did what they could for Eorzea and beyond. Their journey has never been an easy one. Strife and pain littered the path they walked but they carried on regardless. For those they lost and for those they could yet save.
Series: Tales of Light and Dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879666
Kudos: 1





	A Journey Through Light and Dark

The biting chill of the perpetual Coerthan winter, he never really minded it before, he wasn’t all too bothered by the cold. But it was constant now, even while inside of the Fortemps Manor. The warmth of the fireplace did little to remove the cold from his bones. He remembered when he first set foot on Coerthan land, it wasn’t exactly in the best of times then either. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, a group of scholars whose goal was the betterment of the realm. That all fell apart not long ago.

Recalling the event drove a sharp pain into his chest. He had grown to know the Scions as if they were family. Now they were gone, and all he had left were what few were lucky enough to escape capture and the others who stayed by his side from the beginning. He didn’t bear the title of Warrior of Light alone, those he had the honor of sharing the title with are those he considers the closest friends he has. Vincenzo Curain, an Au Ra, much like himself, skilled in the arts of summoning and a well known scholar in his own right. Varda Elentari, a stoic paladin and realm renowned crafter. There wasn't a wealthy individual in the realm who didn’t possess at least something created by Elentari. Zoe Nightshade, a rather brusque but talented White Mage, was the one to set him on the path to becoming the Warrior of Light.

Along with them was Gisela Anya, the temperamental and iron clad Miqo’te and his own mother, Elara Kilrea, a famed engineer and machinist from their shared homeland of Sharlayan. Without them he was fairly certain he would’ve died long before he even fought Ifrit. The Scions and them were what he considered his friends, and now half of them were gone. Either dead or missing due to the machinations of a greed blinded fool. The only solace he could take from everything that had happened that the fool in question was cleaved in two for his trouble. But it wasn’t worth the cost.

Yshtola, Papalymo, Yda, Thancred, and Minfilia, they were gone. Raubahn had his arm cut clean off, and Nanamo was dead. Her death was pinned on him, quite literally one of the least likely people to actually do so. Yet in the heat of the moment, and the betrayal of the Crystal Braves, Alphinaud’s misguided attempt at bringing peace to Eorzea. Now despite all he did for the realm, for Eorzea, for Ul’dah, Gridania, and Limsa Lominsa, he and his were forced to flee for their lives to the thankfully inhospitable climes of Coerthas and Ishgard.

It was strange to him how the most frigid and unwelcoming place in Eorzea welcomed them into their city without much issue. Yes there were those not exactly keen on having not one but two people within the city who look akin to their dravanian enemies, but having saved the city from a dragon larger than even the Ultima Weapon, most were fine with them being there. Count Edmont, the patriarch and lord of the Fortemps High House was more welcoming than he thought he would be.

Then again it was hard to deny Haurchefant of all people something when he was so enthusiastic about it. Now he at least had some place to rest when need be, not that Camp Dragonhead was bad, far from it, he just enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace a fair bit more than the ever present biting chill of cold.

Even when he thought he would be allowed some time to let the events of that damned banquet process, he wasn’t allowed too. Not long after they arrived in Ishgard did he spy the carelessly discarded body of an armored man. From the desire to see the man at least given a proper burial did he learn of a new source of power. Born from his pain, took hold a darkness he could wield to protect what he held dear.

Well over a week after he had dealt with that tempest of emotions, and finding a new friend in himself, did he finally have time to come to terms with what had happened. Instead of swearing in rage and condemnation of the fools who thought to make an enemy of him, the fury that boiled in his gut was tempered and he knew he would get even. He wasn’t raised to just let these kinds of things go. Ilberd and the rest of the traitors would soon know very well what happens when they cross Marx Kilrea, the Warrior of Light.

But that would need to wait for the time being. They had no leads, on where the Scions could possibly be, on what they could do right this wrong. For the time being, he could only help the man so kind enough to allow them into his wartorn city. For the time being he was just preparing to join one of his sons with their own tasks.

 **_“His eldest seems to have quite a disdain for you. His youngest in likelihood is a fool. To think we need to help them”_ **Fray’s voice echoed in his mind. It was still something he was getting used too. Midgardsormr would occasionally speak to him in such a way, but he often preferred mocking him audibly.

“They don’t know me as well. Haurchefant likely went on and on about me to them.” He said as he grabbed hold of his hat, before reaching for his coat.

 **_“Don’t say that as if it were a bad thing”_ ** Fray said, the rippling of aether informed Marx that Fray was at the very least manifesting enough to wander the room, only visible to those who had a heightened sense of aetherial sight.

“Wasn’t saying it was, was just saying that’s probably why they feel as they do. I’ll just deal with them as I need to.” He pulled his jacket on, Tataru and Varda having worked well together in making it during the time they had to remain in Dragonhead.

 **_“Try not to get yourself killed. I do fancy you more alive than dead.”_ ** Was all Fray said as his aether vanished again, leaving Marx alone.

He had no problem staying alive, with the others by his side, he was unstoppable. But now he had to worry about them now as well. With the Scions gone, only Tataru and Alphinaud remained. And Alphinaud had gotten quite the wake up call to his earlier brash and entitled nature. It was almost disturbing to see the normally self assured youth so downtrodden.

As he looked out his window, across the seemingly endless expanse of the abyss surrounding Ishgard, he clenched his hand tightly. He would save the others, failing that, make the ones who did this pay a thousand fold. He just needed to be patient.

He made his way out of the Fortemps Manor, waving farewell to Alphinaud and the Count as he did, making his way towards the Chocobo stables where Artoirel had told him to meet, the others having gone on ahead early in the day.

As he walked through the damaged streets of Ishgard, he kept his mind busy. He would need to help Edmont’s children, at least until they could think of what next to do. The Scions survived the Garlean attack on the Waking Sands, they would survive this. He’d make damn sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter not the best, in my eyes, yes. But this is my third attempt at actually getting this done and I wasn't treading the same ground again, future chapters will be better


End file.
